


The Caverns of Time

by Deksin_Nisked



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 12:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7222165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deksin_Nisked/pseuds/Deksin_Nisked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hunter is roped into a disastrous adventure with a pair of slightly unhinged alliance supporters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Caverns of Time

The entire town square seems to still as a cloaked figure, closely shadowed by a monstrous hound, strides out of the guildhall. The figure wraps their cloak tighter around their shoulders as they walk the short distance from the guildhall to the tavern. The townsfolk keep a wide berth as they go about their business, each person trying to keep their eyes from wandering but failing as the figure gives the hound a quick command. The canine lays down at the side of the building and keeps it’s gaze trained on the entrance as it’s master walks into the building. No one else seems to want to a drink anymore and most of the patrons slowly drift out of the tavern after that. Once the building is empty, save for staff and the cloaked figure, the figure raises a gloved hand, silently motioning for service.

The figure pulls down a scarf, revealing distinctly masculine features, and quietly asks for “Whatever’s hot and a flagon of dwarvish ale.” After ordering, they replace the scarf and slouches in their chair, one eye closing. Outside the building, the townsfolk are surprised to see the figure’s hound suddenly stand and bound off into the forest, quickly becoming obscured by the heavy mist and snarled branches of the stocky trees that characterized the Duskwood region. From their spot in the tavern, the figure can see everything the hound can behind their closed eye. The beast is running at a breakneck pace, heading northwest to a camp hidden deep in the forest, where four more similarly dressed figures wait.

The hound enters the clearing slowly and barks twice before turning and vanishing in the fog. In the tavern, the cloaked figure had finished eating and had just drained the flagon. They stand from the chair and toss two silver coins on the table before walking out of the building. They walk around the building and, once out of sight, quickly dashes into the forest. They toss the cloak to the side and pull a bowstaff from their back, quickly stringing it as they feel their blood begin to rush. Once they feel their blood begin to pound in their ears they let out a savage howl as the aspect of the pack overcomes them. As they run, moving almost twice as fast as a normal human could, they hear a distant shuffling in the trees and smile as they’re flanked by the other four figures.

“We go north, the money was good.” The first figure quickly sends to the other four, the words flooding their shared minds as was customary with groups of heroes. Or, in this case, a group of ex-heroes turned mercenaries.

“Always about the money, isn’t it Saul? What if this priest is actually innocent?” A faint voice asks as a cloaked dwarf falls in behind Saul. Saul ignores the question in favor of giving out another howl, this one answered by their hound from further ahead.

“I don’t think Saul cares about morals at this point, Barik. Remember what happened in Northrend?” A pandaren’s voice reverbates across the link, bringing forth in everyone’s mind the memory of Saul’s temporary corruption the previous year. “I think their just trying to move on.”

Saul stops and takes a knee, raising a fist in the air. “No words, hunting.” Saul signs with their raised hand. The hunter creeps forward, eyes searching the forest around them. It shouldn’t be hard for them to find one priest in a place as evil as Duskwood, seeing as the followers of the Holy Light flocked to the place to try and sanctify the cursed woods. “You all stay. Will signal when I find them.” Saul signs and then stalks off into the woods, closely tailed by a savage looking wolf, which had been previously disgiused as a hound for the village’s sake.

Once they’re out of sight Saul stops and sits against a tree. They look at their wolf and motion for it to sit down as well. “I hope you haven’t gotten too attached to them, Sarah,” Saul signs quickly, “Because this is the last we’ll be seeing of them.” With a quiet sigh, Saul stands and nocks an arrow. They draw the string back until their thumb is pressed under their ear and slowly inhale as they channel magic into the arrow. When they loose the arrow into the sky, it quickly splits into several hundred, all of which arc and rain down on Saul’s companions. Saul watches on, eyes blank, as their friends, people whom they shed blood for in the past, are brought to their knees under the onslaught of arrows.

Saul turns away and begins to slowly walk towards the large tree that the night elf priest is hiding behind. They pass the tree by a few steps and hold out a hand. “Three hundred seventy nine days and fourteen hours.” Sual signs to the priest that had paid him to spy on, and ultimately assassinate, those four mercenaries. “By my math, that’s well over a hundred thousand gold I’m owed. Plus another fifty thousand for each corpse, seeing as that wasn’t originally part of our deal, Samara.” The night elf priest steps up and drops a heavy sack of coins into their open palm.

“I don’t see why you took so long to figure out their connection to the Shattered Hand, Saul, but I trust it was worth the fortune the Alliance is paying you.” The night elf’s voice is softer, more feminine that they remember it being. “I’ll contact you when I’ve found you another job.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll find my own work from here on out. I’m done playing spy for Wrynn.” The truth was, Saul missed the frontline, missed the thrill of actively fighting for their world. Staying behind the scenes and playing at being a rogue wasn’t what Saul trained for. They were a fighter, a hero, after all.

Saul closes their hand around the sack of coin and it disappears, safely deposited in their enchanted pack. “It’s been nice working with you, Samara. May the Light guide you.” Saul waves offhandedly and draws a sigil in the air before vanishing in a swirl of green energy. When Saul next opens their eyes, they’re standing in the Alliance tavern on the floating City Dalaran. With a deep sigh, they sit at one of the stools and wave to the bartender, who quickly pours them a glass of ice water.

“It’s been a while, Saul. A priest was asking about you a few months ago, and not one of your usual contacts. No, this one was definitely a man, and he wore black. Still a night elf though.” Saul sips the water as the bartender speaks, quietly raising an eyebrow at the mention of a male priest in black.

“What would a dark priest want with me?” Saul signs, moving his hand slowly for the elderly bartender. Saul really hoped that the priest was looking to be friendly, since they weren’t sure they could kill a priest, let alone a dark priest.

“He said he was putting together a group of highly skilled individuals. He heard about you from Wrynn, he said. He also mentioned something about the frontlines, I wasn’t to clear on that part. He was talking awfully fast and being too quiet for me to make out much by that point. He almost sounded upset that you weren’t here.” The bartender slides Saul a letter. “I was suppose to give this to you as soon as I saw you.”

The bartender is surprised to see Saul stand and take the letter, dropping a silver on the counter, and leave. Saul usually stayed and chatted for an hour or two whenever they had the chance, but the idea of going back to the frontlines was too much to pass up. Saul only hoped that the offer was still open. They use their skinning knife to break the seal on the letter and before they can even open the letter to read it, they feel a familiar pull behind their navel. The letter was a bound summon and they had just blindly walked into what was almost certainly a trap.

When they can feel ground beneath their feet again they draw two axes from their belt and quickly take in their surroundings. They’re in a wide open hall, the ground is flat and the cieling is high. Saul stands up straighter, axes still gripped tightly, as they take in the familiar sight of a guildhall. It wasn’t their hall though, so they were confused as to how they were even here. Normally to get into a hall, you had to be a member of the guild who created it.

Just as Saul is about to move, they see a slight distortion in the wall to their left. Bringing their left axe up and slashing at the air, they see sparks fly as the weapon is parried by an invisible force. Saul raises their right hand up and blocks a now visible dagger, knocking it to the side before dropping the axe and grabbing the rogue by her collar. Saul pulls her towards him and deftly flips her over his shoulder and smashes her into the ground before springing away in a graceful backflip. They land in a crouch and, having dropped their other axe in the flip, pull their bow from their back and quickly nock and draw an arrow. Saul charges the arrow with arcane energy and let it loose as the worgen rogue stands up.

Just before the arrow finds it’s mark in the worgen’s throat, a bright yellow bubble springs into existence around her. The arrow shatters on the field of energy and Saul draws another arrow while turning and scanning the room. A priest, a male night elf in black robes, is standing some distance away with both hands raised. One, raised towards the worgen, is glowing with holy energy and the other, raised towards Saul, isn’t glowing at all.

“Now, now Myrha, there is no need to attack our guest.” The night elf’s voice is curiously deep, almost dwarf-like. He takes a slow step towards Saul and directs his full attention to the highstrung hunter. “You’re in no danger here, hunter. I’m sure Myrha was just introducing herself. She can be a little excitable when meeting new people. Speaking of introductions, Myrha come here, my name is Rhydian. I, and by ‘I’ I mean we, have a offer to make you. I figured it would only be a matter of time until you returned to Dalaran and found my letter, so we decided to wait here for you.”

Myrha walks over to Rhydian and stands behind him, waving cheerfully to Saul. “He’s definitely better than we were led to believe. He blocked my first attack blind and knew where I was before I came out of stealth.” Saul stiffens and quickly begins to sign in outrage, advancing on both of them in the process.

Rhydian and Myrha both look on in stunned silence as they continue to sign at them. After several seconds, Rhydian clears his throat, interupting Saul. “Saul, neither of us know human signs.” He at least has the good graces to look ashamed when Saul is forced to pull a party agreement from their pack. Both Myrha and Rhydian sign the parchment and their minds are filled with Saul’s enraged voice.

“You sick fuck, you tried to kill me as a test? And then you have the gall to seek me out for a job but not do any in depth research? And before either of you say a damn thing, you’d know I wasn’t a man and that I can’t speak if you had bothered to try and learn anything about me besides how good I am in combat.” Saul reigns their fury in, stopping themselves short of a fullblown tantrum.

Rhydian looks horribly ashamed, his cheeks flushed bright purple and his ears quivering ever so slightly, but Myrha just lets out a bark of a laugh. “I like you, human. You’ve got some spirit. No wonder you survived being fel-drunk.” She crosses her arms and bares her teeth in what passes as a smile for a worgen. “Well, I say we keep them.”

Rhydian quickly finds his tongue and begins to apologize when Saul raises a hand to stop him. “Just move on, elf. What’s this offer you have.”

“Oh, of course. I’ve found a ruin in Draenor that’s been overlooked by the rest of the frontline. I wanted to enlist you to help Myrha and I explore it. We have reason to beleive that it may be an entrance to the Caverns of Time, and we felt it would be best to seek out a third member before venturing into such unknown and likely hostile territory.”

Saul nods and weighs the pros and cons of the situation. On the one hand, this was a ticket back to Draenor, but on the other hand, they had only been in the Caverns of Time once before and that was with an escort from the bronze dragonflight. “I want a fair share of any wealth we come across. And we follow my orders. I don’t want either of you two walking into any traps just because you got to comfortable.”

Myrha’s smile only widens as she glances back and forth between Saul and Rhydian. Watching her friend work through what Saul just sent them was a rare joy, seeing as Rhydian had always been one in charge. Myrha had never cared to try and lead them, and any past partners simply hadn’t had the tactical knowledge Rhydian did and had left well enough alone. Now though, with Saul in the group, that had changed. Both Rhydian and Myrha knew that Saul leagues ahead of them in the area of tactics and dungeoneering. They had to be, to survive outland and Northrend basically alone.

“Fine. You can take the lead.” Rhydian turns and walks away. “We leave for the Dark Portal in the morning. Be ready by then. Myrha, show him to his room.”

“Well, come on hunter. We added a whole wing for you last month.” Myrha gestures to the northern hall and then leads Saul to an enormous room. Inside it there’s a king sized, four-post bed and a large metal bathtub. “The tub is enchanted to heat water for you and the bed is a bed. I’m sure you know how to use one of those, right?” Myrha holds the door open for Saul.

“Right… Yes, definitely.” He steps into the room and quickly catalogs the entire place, making note of any places to hide. “I definitely know how to use a bed.” He sends as he looks back at Myrha.

“Good, I was afraid I’d have to show you. I’ll be down the west hall if you need anything. Rhydian sleeps in the east wing, but I think you might want to avoid him for the rest of the night. He can get antsy when his authority is challenged.” Antsy wasn’t exactly the word she wanted to use, but she doubted Saul wanted to know what Rhydian’s real response to being challenged was.


End file.
